


A Good Night's Sleep

by aurilly



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-26 07:43:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12552568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurilly/pseuds/aurilly
Summary: Marcus's sleep has been troubled since they returned from the north. Stephanos has a hypothesis.





	A Good Night's Sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jain/gifts).



In the week since he and Marcus had returned with the Eagle, Esca had taken to spending the mornings sitting cross-legged by the pool of Aquila’s villa. As a slave, he’d had to rise before the sun, snuffled into wakefulness by the friendly dogs who had taken to him long before Aquila’s other slaves ever had. He was hardly lazy in freedom, not with the commissions for horse care that Marcus had inveigled his uncle to find for him. However, he was now able to set his own waking time and schedule, and enjoy a few licks of the cool morning sun in peace, and watch as Calleva awoke.

Listening for Marcus’s off-rhythm steps—more shuffling in the morning as he warmed up his leg—and turning around to catch sight of his freshly, and horribly, combed hair, was the nicest part of the whole ritual. 

“Good morning, Esca,” Marcus always called from behind him, finishing with a bright twinkling of his eyes, and an endearing combination of smile and pout.

“Good morning, Marcus,” Esca always answered, wishing that he could stutter and add a ‘my’ before the name, or wake up with him in the first place. He hadn't had such thoughts as a slave, not often, anyway, but in the past week he had begun to see everythingbin a new ligh. He wasn't yet certain, exactly, what he wanted from his new free life, but he did know of one secret thing he wished for.

Today, however, was different. Today, Marcus’s steps sounded later, when the sun had climbed higher than the top of the tree it usually crested at his appearance. Today, his hair had not been combed, and his eyes looked tired instead of bright.

“You look unwell. Is your leg bothering you today?” Esca asked, jumping up in alarm and going to lend an arm to his staggering friend.

“No, it is not my leg. I am merely exhausted. I couldn’t sleep, not for a moment. Never before have I heard such a storm rage through the night.”

Esca frowned. “What storm?”

“Why, the storm that…” But Marcus paused as his gaze settled on the dry, for Britain, landscape. He looked at Esca, eyes wide with confusion. “It howled, Esca.”

“Perhaps it was wolves.”

Marcus released Esca’s arm, less desperate since their return from the north to prove that he needed no help, but still stubbornly self-reliant.

“Perhaps,” he said, and passed on to bid his uncle a good morning.

* * *

The next morning, Marcus’s steps came even later, so late that Esca had to go wake him so that they would not miss their appointment. They were to meet with a land agent to discuss options for a new farm they possibly wanted to start together. 

He found Marcus curled up into a tiny ball, in a position that had to be terribly uncomfortable for his leg. Gently, Esca massaged Marcus’s shoulder.

“Wake, friend. It is past time.”

“Esca…” Marcus moaned, but instead of waking, he leaned into the touch, nuzzled his cheek into Esca's hand, and reached out to grab Esca’s nearby leg, drawing him closer, so suddenly that a less balanced man would have toppled onto the bed.

“Marcus, are you all right?” Esca asked with an even stronger shake.

At this, Marcus’s eyes flew open. He took in how he had pulled Esca in, how high on his thigh he was gripping, and uncurled himself in great haste.

“Esca,” he said slowly, “what are you doing?”

“Trying to wake you, you lazy oaf,” he snapped, not because he could (though a small part of him did thrill at being able to say such a thing to a former master), but because how dare Marcus look at Esca as though _he_ were the one doing something inappropriate, something beyond friendship. 

Esca had lived as a slave for seven years. He knew mastery of himself, both from master and from within. He had ensured, and was prepared to continue ensuring that no one would ever see his true feelings. He would never do the kind of thing Marcus’s shocked, questioning gaze implied he had been doing, especially when it was so unwelcome.

“We are going to be late,” he continued.

On their walk to the appointment, Esca took pity on his friend, who was hobbling a little from the hurry.

“Slow down,” he said. “I am sorry for being so rough with you. It was only my excitement driving me. I’m sure he will not mind us being a few minutes late.” Looking more closely at Marcus’s red and sunken eyes, so different from his normal, bright handsomeness, he asked, “Did you spend another bad night?”

Marcus nodded and clutched his stick even tighter. “This time it was a thousand birds, squawking. Crowing. Like eagles. It was deafening.”

“I heard nothing,” Esca said, beginning to worry. There had never been anything suggesting insanity about Marcus or about his uncle. But he could think of no other explanation. “I could… I could sleep in your room tonight. I could see if it is something only on your side of the villa.”

“No!” Marcus exclaimed.

“No?”

“I don’t want to share my room. Not… not with… No.”

“All right,” Esca said, suppressing a pang of disappointment. He had known that Marcus did not desire him, but such a stark rejection did sting. 

They spoke no more of it that day.

* * *

The next morning, Esca’s heart sank even further, when, while sitting by the pool, he saw Stephanos emerge from Marcus’s room.

So, he thought to himself, _he_ was not welcome, but others were. Esca sighed and suppressed, suppressed so deeply that he thought he might bury himself into the ground. His ears buzzed with such embarrassment and sorrow, and he was working so hard to suppress, that he did not hear when Marcus finally emerged, eyes ringed with red and face haggard.

“Good morning, Esca,” Marcus said.

“You lie,” Esca whispered.

“What?” Marcus asked, unnaturally panicked.

“Anyone can see that you are having a very poor morning, after yet another terrible night. What was it this time?”

Marcus looked plaintively at him. “Seals. Braying. All night long.”

“You should try not drinking wine before bed. It will keep away these strange dreams.” 

“I do not think they are dreams,” Marcus said, and then, when he saw Esca rising and turning to the path leading to the road, he asked plaintively, “Where are you going?” 

“To town.” _Anywhere but here, where I have to see how little you want me._

* * *

“He is being haunted,” Stephanos whispered after dinner, having cornered Esca in a hallway where no others could hear.

“What?” Esca asked.

“I stayed in his room last night. He clutched my arm, the terrors were terrible.”

“I told him. He drinks too much wine before bed. He has strange dreams. That is all.”

“They are not dreams, I tell you. I have seen this before. He is being haunted.”

“This is madness,” Esca whispered, and felt sick inside, because that would mean that _Marcus_ was mad, was sicker in a way that Esca could never tend, never heal.

“I heard faint creakings, something I could not place. But I did not understand fully what he was seeing until I touched his arm,” Stephanos explained, “and then it was as if I saw with his eyes. The young master, surrounded by seals all mocking him, scolding him. I was deafening. And then they turned into Roman legionnaires, led by his father, all shaking their heads at him, repeatedly calling the young master a liar. As soon as I let go, I saw nothing. It was no dream. Dreams do not share. You have seen his eyes during the day, seen his exhaustion. This has been going on for some days. Since you returned from the North, I would wager.”

Esca had to agree. It had only been in the past few days that he had noticed Marcus’s late rising, but he had seen something eating away at him. He had assumed it was a lack of purpose, a confused week of transition between the sense of dishonor that had defined him for so long before and the stretch of unbridled possibility that lay before him now. He had been leaving Marcus to sort it out for himself, and also, quite honestly, Esca had been sorting out something similar.

“You say you have seen this before,” he said. “When have you seen it?”

“It was with my previous master. He had a sister who suffered from such a haunting. I was set to watch over her, to soothe her in the night. I touched her just as I touched the young master, and shared in her horrors. In her case, the haunting was done by her mother.”

“And how was it resolved?” Esca asked.

“We had to find the source of what was shaming her departed mother. Once we did, and the woman corrected the erring behaviour, the visions ceased. Young master Aquila has done or is doing something to displease his father. Only once he has either resolved it or stopped will his slumber resume peacefully.”

Even if he were to believe, Esca could not make sense of a key fact. “But Marcus is the best, most honorable man I have ever known. He has just restored the honor of his family. What stain could possibly mar his character, to fret his father’s spirit so?”

“In the vision, they said it was a lie.”

“Marcus never lies,” Esca persisted.

“You are his friend,” Stephanos said, and his earnest belief was somehow contagious. “That much is clear to us all. If he will confess to anyone, it will be to you. And then it will be as with my former master’s sister. All will be well.”

“I will see what I can do,” Esca promised.

* * *

Esca waited, still in half-belief, one more night, but after Stephanos emerged again from Marcus’s room, shaking his head sorrowfully at Esca, and after Marcus appeared half an hour later, looking worse than when his leg had been at its most dire, he made up his mind.

Marcus had rejected his offer to share a room before, but this was no longer a matter of Esca’s desire or pride. This was the role of a friend. He negotiated his plan with Stephanos. 

The next night Stephanos went to sleep in Marcus’s room, but an hour or so later, they quietly switched places, Stephanos creeping out and Esca creeping in and settling himself on the pallet that Stephanos had placed beside Marcus’s bed.

Esca felt and heard Marcus shivering and shaking and almost whimpering, more frightened and closer to shaming himself than he had even when the doctor had cut him open. Esca brushed his fingers against his friend’s and was immediately plunged into a horrible nightmare, more vivid than Stephanos had described, and realer than any dream.

He saw a man, a Roman centurion, who looked just like Marcus, except not quite. And then, startlingly, he saw his own father, a face he had forgotten, even in dreams. Mac Cunoval looked at the Roman, and asked, “What is it you desire above all?”

The Roman said, “Honor, and the truth. And most of all…”

Esca never heard the answer, because just then, Marcus’s hand shifted away from his, and the vision was gone. And now knew this was no madness, no dream. Marcus shook and beads of sweat fell off the side of the mattress and onto Esca’s arm.

“Marcus,” he whispered. “Marcus, it’s me.”

“Esca? What happened to Stephanos?” Marcus asked sleepily.

“We switched watch, as you and I did up north.” Esca chuckled sadly. “Marcus, what is it you want? Will you not tell me? If you tell me, it may stop.”

“I can never…” Marcus said. “You would not… I cannot.”

“I saw it, just now. What is it that you desire? Just tell me.”

Esca hadn’t known what to expect, but a softly whispered “You”, would have been last on the list.

He laughed outright.

“Is that all?”

“All? It is too much. And I know you do not. I would not shame you with...”

Esca leaned up over the side of the bed and kissed him, full on his quivering lips. 

“Sleep, Marcus, and we will talk more in the morning.”

“But…” Marcus had begun to rise, to follow Esca’s retreating lips. 

“Sleep. All will be well, for you, for me, for your father, even for mine. The shame was only in the hiding of it. You will see.” Esca kissed him once more to emphasize the point, and then lay down on the pallet.

* * *

When they woke in the morning, Marcus’s eyes were bright again, well-rested.

Esca barely had time to notice before he was pounced upon.

This was infinitely better than siting cross-legged by the pool.


End file.
